Golden Hands
by NymboDerp
Summary: Sena, no matter what who he is or what he does, inevitably attracts the attention of certain men, all of whom share one common thing: a love for American Football. AU where Sena is a masseur. Shounen-ai, with no specific pairing. Sena-centric.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Because an AU with masseur!Sena is one I can't resist.

Published: 8 Dec 13

Edited: 10 Dec 13

* * *

Sena had always been good with his hands, no matter how weak or frail he might've been when he was younger. He may not have been the strongest, or the smartest, or the most talented; but he was the fastest, and his hands... well, he had the Midas touch, so to speak.

Anything that involved his hands, Sena was good at. It wasn't necessarily talent, but rather, the abundance of love that seemed to express itself through his fingers as _quality_. (Or at least, that was what his mother said when he asked what Hiruma had meant when he had "golden hands".) By the time he was 15, he was well versed in the ways of the household (not that it was particularly ego-boosting; it was a necessary evil of becoming an adult), and at the insistence of his mother, had spent hours in his bedroom painting, and occasionally playing the piano or violin… But no matter what talents he had, there were only two things that Sena could proudly proclaim his mastery of.

The first, sprinting; and the second, _massaging_. Of course, both of them were a secret skills of his, the latter more so. It was pretty embarrassing to tell people that you were good at massaging, because it caused them to ask you to _pretty please practice on me_, and when they passed out from a Sena-induced nirvana, the explanations for said passing out were always awkward…

However, when he reached the young age of sixteen, he was suddenly pressured into choosing what he wanted to do with his future. Did he want to have further education, or go straight into work? Sena hadn't had much choice with the things he wanted to do, or the things he were good at. He was good at running, he supposed, but he knew—or rather, deluded himself into believing—that he couldn't get very far with his ability to sprint: he was sure that there were others faster than him, others stronger and with more endurance… which was why he had decided to study the art of reflexology, eventually ending up as the owner of an obscure but high-end spa of sorts at the age of twenty-four.

And it was just his luck that all of his customers just so happened to be testosterone-filled men, with only a few things on their mind: muscle relief, American football, and _sex_.

Reflecting back on it all, he _knew_ should've just listened to Monta when he told Sena to pursue a career in teaching.

* * *

Sena placed a weak smile on his face as he welcomed his latest customer into the back room of the spa, trying not to feel too envious at the sight of the rippling muscle and toned flesh that peeked out from under the loosely tied bathrobe that the man wore.

He had always been slender, without much muscle mass no matter what he tried. Back in his uni days, Hiruma-san had laughed at him when he saw him trying to bench-press 20 kilograms in the relative privacy of the gym, telling him that he wouldn't be able to build up any muscle, and to _get the fuck back to work, fucking pipsqueak!_ And right after that, Hiruma-san had promptly stripped his shirt off, revealing a surprisingly toned body for such a thin man. Sena had then resigned himself to a life of a scrawny figure... but he quickly snapped himself out of his thoughts, reinforcing the smile that slipping from his face.

"Please undress, and lie down on the bed, Yamato-sama," Sena murmured softly, making sure to keep his voice soothing to match the tastefully designed room that they were in.

A warm beige in colour, the traditional-Japan-styled room was a perfect sanctuary for anyone seeking asylum from the busy city outside. The lights were dimmed, casting the room in a soothing light. The cool browns and the deep reds had a soft glow to them, accompanied by the subtle scent of incense: nothing too floral, but rather a heavier forest-like scent, but it wasn't overly masculine. Sena had chosen that scent to match the _washitsu-_styled room, and he hadn't changed it since. Hiruma-san had given him a rare compliment over his choices, and he couldn't repress the pride that welled up inside of him at the thought. Hiruma-san was a picky man after all...

"Of course... anything for you, Sena-chan," Yamato replied with an amused look on his face, undoing the messy knot around his waist and stretching himself out on the futon, pointedly ignoring the blanket that was neatly folded at the foot of the mattress. Wriggling until he was comfortable on the futon, Yamato sent him a leering grin, cupping the back of his head with a large palm. "This alright, Sena-chan?" He asked cheekily, his other hand resting on his stomach, right above the faint smattering of hair that lead downwards towards his nether regions.

Sena withheld a sigh at Yamato's antics, pointedly keeping his eyes away from his lower regions, too used to this sort of behaviour to complain anymore.

"On your stomach, please, Yamato-sama," he said tensely, though his words still gentle and softly spoken.

"I thought I told you last time to call me Takeru, Sena-chan," Yamato huffed out, not bothering to keep his voice down to suit the soothing atmosphere of the room. Sena held back a wince at how loud his voice was, though he dropped the smile as Yamato continued. "Yamato is too formal, especially when you've touched my body, from head to toe, numerous times by now…"

All too aware of his attempt to fluster Sena (he was, actually, flustered, but after having to deal with score upon score of men – and _only men_, which really hit his self-confidence hard – hitting on him during their sessions, Sena had learnt to control his blush reflex), he ignored his lewd remarks to lightly nudge at his shoulder.

Grumbling good-naturedly, Yamato rolled onto his stomach, stretching out comfortably on the soft surface of the futon again.

"Are you sure you aren't going to accept my offer?" Yamato asked a moment later, feeling a plush towel settle on his backside, small and moist hands then settling on his back. "I'm serious, you know… I really would love to have dinn-_ah!_- dinner with you."

Sena kneaded his tense muscles, not responding for a few minutes as he worked the kinks out of his back. Letting the low lighting and gentle music take effect on the man beneath him, he finally responded with a soft, "I don't date clients, Yamato-sama… It's one of my policies."

It had only been a few minutes, but by then, Yamato was too far lost in the pleasure that Sena's hands delivered to answer, moaning happily as Sena's nimble fingers made their way down his body. Starting from his shoulder, they moved onto to his rhombiod major, down the spinal cord following his latissimus dorsi and working around the numerous bruises that covered his body. The subtle scent of citrons, _mikan _or oranges probably, filled the air as the oil was rubbed into his skin, mixing ever so wonderfully with the forest-like fragrance that was characteristic of the room.

Yamato was sure that by the end of that day, he was going to have orange-scented products filling his household for months until Sena-chan's appointment book was open again.

It really was too bad that Sena-chan was so in demand… Yamato would've loved having such a cute man exclusively massaging him, being his _personal masseur_, and have his fingers working on his chest, toying with the muscles that corded his chest, then moving down his abdomen and marveling at how sculpted his muscles were… and then going further south, and _oh! _Sena's fingers had found that one area on his back that made him shudder in sheer pleasure, arching into his touch as his sores were slowly chased away.

"Does this feel good, Yamato-sama?" Sena asked softly, his gentle voice sounding strangely erotic.

Yamato's following moan was not one of pleasure, but one of frustration.

"Sena-cha—_ahh_—n… marry me," he pleaded, even as he was bade to sit up, pulling the blanket over his lap in a futile attempt to hide the evidence of his fantasies.

Sena moved to take hold of an arm, fingers moving to squeeze at his trapezius muscle, and Yamato trembled under his touch.

"I'll provide you everything you—nngh!—could ever desire, as long as y—_ooh_—ou keep doing this for me…" His voice trailed off, disappearing under a series of pleased mewls and groans.

"There is nothing in particular that I desire, Yamato-sama..." Sena replied, ignoring both his confession and physiological reaction with the ease of long practice as he dug his knuckles into a particularly stubborn knot on the nape of his neck.

* * *

By the end of two hours, Yamato felt like a pile of goo, sending Sena a look of adoration as he slung his heavier frame against the masseur's back. He didn't try to push it further, knowing that Sena was adept at acupressure, and probably had twenty methods of taking him down with the delicate press of his lubricated fingers... especially with Hiruma as his protector.

But he didn't really care much for Hiruma: Sena was someone he was very much interested in keeping around, and if it came down to it, he was more than willing to meet Hiruma in battle over the petit brunet.

"Sena… you're my favourite masseur," he cooed, ignoring how Sena tried to push him off with his fragile arms. His frame was so small under his own, and Yamato was struck yet again by the feeling of protectiveness over the masseur. "When's the next time I can see you?"

"Next year… I'm heavily booked until next February," Sena replied easily, shrugging him off finally to duck behind the reception counter, tapping at the screen of the monitor to record the end of Yamato's visit. There was no need for the exchange of cash, since Yamato wired the cash directly to Sena's account, though there were still formalities that Sena had to follow in order to meet regulations… not that he needed to. Hiruma had seen to it that he would never need to, and made sure that such "trivial things" would never bother Sena's little spa. It was too valuable an asset, after all… and it was all the better that it indebted Sena to him.

Yamato let out a sigh at the revelation, before nodding in resignation. "Alright… five months isn't too long a wait I suppose… Though have you thought about it?" He suddenly asked, his slight pout fading into a roguish grin. "You know. Having dinner with me?"

Sena pinned Yamato a sharp stare, having thought that Yamato would've forgotten by then. "I've already said no, Yamato-sama," he said sternly, trying not to feel guilt over how the grin immediately fell from Yamato's face. "Besides, you're only saying this because you want to have freebies from me…"

There was a moment where Yamato merely stared at him, before he finally laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, you caught me there! I'll pop in next week Friday to take you out for lunch though. I'm going to pay for it all, so don't you worry… Dress nicely!" And with those words, he left the spa, leaving Sena blinking in his wake.

"B-but... I'm busy that day..." He stammered out, startled by the sudden invitation. However, Yamato was long gone, and Sena was unable to tell Yamato that he had someone else booked on that day. And he wasn't going to be able to change the appointment, as Takami was a very busy man with a tight schedule…

Oh well. He was sure that Yamato would be able to handle the disappointment.

* * *

**A/N: **I've been thinking of doing a bunch of excerpts on this AU. What do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

Published: 9 Dec 13

Edited: 10 Dec 13

* * *

For once in the three years that Sena had operated the spa, he found himself with a lack of things to do, sitting on the chair behind his counter with a slightly puzzled frown on his face.

Ever since the first day of opening the quaint store, Sena had found himself busy with servicing his customers from the beginning to the end of his working hours, all twelve of them. It eventually led him into requiring his customers to book their appointments with him, unable to cope with the huge numbers that flooded his spa every day… which was why he found it weird that on this particular day, he didn't have anything planned or booked.

It made him almost wish for someone to come in randomly, if only so that he could busy himself with something. The strange lack of work was making him fidget, pent up energy making him stand up and bustle around his workplace, cleaning the impeccable and flawlessly clean surfaces for a third time.

Dusting the glossy surface of the _kaya_ wood table, a passing thought made him pause. What if… it had been Hiruma-san's doing?

He wouldn't be surprised if it _was_ Hiruma's doing. Though really, if the blond just wanted Sena to spend the day on him, he didn't have to clear out his schedule with a few well-placed threats to other people… Sena was more than willing to close the spa for one day for his long-time acquaintance, knowing that Hiruma-san would find a way to compensate him for the loss of business.

A wry smile appeared on his lips at the antics of the strange blond, and he patted his hands clean on the cloth of his pants. He then looked up to stare directly into the eyes of the lion statue that Panther-kun had ironically given him, knowing that Hiruma would have somehow replaced the obsidian glass eyes with his cameras.

"Hiruma-san, you may as well come up here if you're intending to steal me away for the day," he remarked, knowing that there was a microphone implanted somewhere in the room, and that the blond man would come up to greet him eventually.

Satisfied that he had secured Hiruma's arrival, he stood up to make some oolong tea for them both – heavy and dark for Hiruma, while slightly watered down for Sena. Ten minutes later found him standing by the doorway awaiting the blond's arrival with a porcelain cup imported from China in his hands. Counting down the seconds in his mind, he wasn't disappointed as the door was opened forcibly.

"Fucking pipsqueak!" Hiruma crowed with a wide smirk on his face, grabbing the delicate cup from Sena's hands and taking a long draught of it with the slightest hint of approval in his green eyes. Sena ignored the slight bubbling of pride at having garnered his approval, sending him a wry smile.

"Hello to you too, Hiruma-san," he greeted in a much more subdued manner, repressing the urge to shrink back when Hiruma's hand settled on his shoulder, giving him a rough pat. Even after a few years, Sena was still wary of the blond's intentions whenever he invaded his personal space, having experienced too much of his insanity during their university days.

"You were wrong, yet fucking again, pipsqueak. The camera isn't on the fucking lion," Hiruma stated with a wide smirk, making Sena flush slightly at his decidedly wrong assumption. Hiruma's smirk widened at the sight, setting the cup down on a nearby table with a sharp _click!_ "It's behind the fucking painting, you fucking idiot!"

Sena's eyes went to the side, observing the painting that Karin had so kindly made for him. Glancing over it, he took in the familiar sight of the delicately painted phoenix, the subdued blues swirling around the fiery oranges and reds and yellows that made up the feathers of the mythical creature. And then he spotted it: a strange gleam that oil paints didn't have.

"Ah… Karin-san won't be pleased that you cut into her painting," he said mildly, even as Hiruma cackled, amused that he even suggested someone expressing their dislike of his actions.

"Fucking shy-girl'll get over it!" Hiruma declared, before grabbing Sena's wrist. Sena started with a jolt, eyes wide when he was tugged close to Hiruma, his chest pressing against the blond's. Hiruma grinned at the blush that appeared on his cheeks. "And you… close up for today. We're going the fuck out. And don't even think about fucking protesting, pipsqueak!" He then added, before Sena could open his mouth.

Sena let out a soft sigh instead of words, before smiling wryly. His blush faded once he stepped back, away from Hiruma's person. "… Do I dare ask where we're going?" He asked, even as he did as Hiruma said, moving around to tidy up what little had been disturbed, heading to the back to get changed into his outside clothing.

"Only if you're not scared of getting burnt," Hiruma replied with a grin as he followed him into the small walk-in closet to the side, barring his way out of the room by leaning against the doorframe.

Sena sent Hiruma a look of long-suffering when he didn't budge from his position. Was he honestly going to stay there while he changed? ... Though it wasn't as if Sena had any modesty left… Hiruma had seen him naked more times than he cared to count, and having to fend off confessions and proposals day after day left him numb to lewd staring.

Uh... Not that Hiruma would look at him that way: he was merely there to make him feel uncomfortable. And judging from the widening grin on his face, Hiruma knew what he was thinking. "Hurry the fuck up, pipsqueak! If we're fucking late, I'm going to shoot your ass!" Hiruma threatened, pulling out a semi-automatic M9 Beretta out of hammer space.

Sena tensed up at the sight, eyes wide as he stared at Hiruma. "J-just give me five minutes, Hiruma-san, and I'll be done… and could you back up a bit? You're suffocating me with how c-close you are!"

"_Three minutes_, and that's fucking it." There was a soft _click!_ and the gun was cocked with a flick of his thumb.

A gulp. "… Alright."

"Get the fuck on it!"

"_H-hieeeee!_"

* * *

Queazy and pale, Sena slowly let go of the hand rests, cracking his eye open to look out of the window. Hiruma had cackled the entire way from his spa to wherever the hell they had been driven to, sending Sena into a state of sheer and utter terror, too petrified to scream as they went three times over the speed limit without any regard of the law or police, careening around sharp corners, bursting through tight alleyways, and forcing terrified people to dive out of the way of Hiruma's car, aptly named _El Diablo_ by the blond.

"Get your ass out of the fucking car, pipsqueak!" Hiruma yowled, smirking as he toted a carbine rifle onto his shoulder, watching Sena flinch back slightly, still jumpy and fearful from the near-death experience. (Besides, he could still remember the bruises left on his side that one time he'd been too slow to heed Hiruma's warnings… Rubber bullets hurt, especially at such a close range!)

Sena quickly opened the door, hopping out of his seat and waiting for Hiruma to lock the car and sling his numerous guns onto his person. Without a single prompt, Hiruma stalked off, and Sena wordlessly fell into step behind him, curious despite his fear as to why the blond had brought him here-which was a stadium, he noted belatedly.

He hadn't heard of any major games, and if he had, Monta would've been preaching about it to him… His friend was nothing if not fanatical about American football and baseball.

"There's a practice match, and you're going to be fucking watching it," Hiruma stated a moment later, as if reading his thoughts, smirking as he chewed thoughtfully. "Afterwards, you're going to tell me exactly what the fuck you've noticed about the other team!"

Taking a deep breath, Sena regained his composure.

"American football?" He echoed, a soft smile appearing on his lips instinctively. "You still haven't lost your love for it, it seems," he commented, letting Hiruma lead him deeper into the stadium, until they came across a large indoor field.

Hiruma cackled. "It's fucking fun, that's what!" Slinging his arm around Sena's shoulders, he ignored the stammered protests of the players and coaches, gesturing for Sena to sit down at a bench. He then flitted off to exchange a few words with one of the security guards, his infamous book appearing. Everyone shivered collectively at the sight, and it was only then that Sena noticed exactly whom the teams were made up with.

"What is Hiruma-san planning?" He whispered to himself, eyes wide as he took note of the various players on the field.

Some of who had been a client at his spa one time or another.

He could see Shin, and Kakei, and Yamato, and Sakuraba, and various other NFL-level players dotted around the field ranging in all kinds of sizes; and as he noted each one he paled further. What _was_ Hiruma thinking?! It was awkward enough having to deal with them trying to pick him up at the spa... and now that he was on their territory...

Trying to shrink in on himself before anyone could see him, Sena tried to deny the fact that he was going to be witnessing Japan's All-Stars squaring it off on the field. Because he really, _really_ didn't want to get caught up in the power struggles that were bound to come up when they saw their "favourite masseur" watching them at the sidelines.

"Fucking pipsqueak! Make sure you keep your fucking eye on the other team!" Hiruma crowed out, tucking his book back into his bag as he pulled his helmet on, somehow having put his uniform on while Sena had been looking at the players in a fearful daze. Sena could only nod dumbly, watching as Hiruma joined the tangle of players on the field, taking his place behind a large man, who had numerous scars dotted over his body. (The brunet could only _imagine_ how he got them… Most of them were still a vicious pink, knotted and marring his features.)

In his moment of distraction, he missed the start of the game, eyes widening when he noticed just how _fast_ the action was.

It was all so different compared to the last game he had bore witness to. It was faster paced, and the impacts between the players were so much greater, the sheer power inside of the player's bodies making Sena cringe in phantom pain. Hiruma had thrown the ball all the way across the field, and there was a race to get to the ball first, the linemen were crashing against each other, and he could see as the large man all but threw people aside, only to clash with Shin, who had thrust his hand out, cutting him off and—

"Out of bounds! Red ball!" The referee called out, and Sena's eyes were fixed on the pile of players at the edge of the field, where a smirking Yamato was helping a battered looking man with a mole on his forehead up.

Sena had lost all of his fear of being discovered, and was utterly _enraptured_ by the game, silently cheering on the two teams as touchdowns were scored, and kicks were made, and the points kept wracking up until the referee blew the whistle one last time—and Hiruma's team had barely won by the skin of their teeth. 43-42. Sena had never felt so breathless at the battle that had ensued on field, and when Hiruma had returned to his side with a smug grin, Sena could only give him a look of pure— he couldn't put a name on it.

Sena was struck with a sudden yearning, deeply rooted into his heart.

He wanted to run with them.

* * *

"That was amazing, Hiruma-san," he breathed out, even as Hiruma placed a hand on his flyaway hair, patting it roughly. Too starstruck to flinch back instinctively, he looked up at the blond with wide eyes, mouth moving a mile a minute. "It was— you know, especially when compared to Saikyoudai… You were amazing. Your passes've gotten further, and your plays were just—"

"Shut the fuck up already. We get the idea." Hiruma cut him off with an amused smirk on his face, blowing up and popping a bubble. "F'course it was amazing. We fucking won! You should play too, since you have your golden hands!"

Sena laughed at his words, shaking his head. He wasn't anywhere as athletic as the men on the team, and they both knew it. Though considering how fast Sena could sprint… He couldn't help but entertain thoughts of being able to run in a team, sprinting from one end of the field to the other, the ball in his grip and scoring a touchdown…

Fully aware of Sena's thoughts, Hiruma smirked as he pulled his hand away from Sena's head. Wiping sweat away from his forehead with the same hand, he then gestured for Sena to follow him.

"You can tell me your thoughts on the fucking game as we walk," Hiruma stated (though it was more an order) bluntly, tucking his helmet under his arm as they entered the hallway that led to the changing rooms.

"Ah... alright." Sena smiled fondly at the back of Hiruma's head, before trotting off after him. It was just like when he had attended Saikyoudai: accompanying Hiruma to his games and telling him what he saw, keeping him company until Hiruma sent him off to study...

* * *

Sena was oblivious to the surprised look on Kakei's face as he disappeared into the depths of the building after Hiruma.

"What is _he_ doing here?"

* * *

**A/N:** Sena's not such a wimp here because firstly, he's older, and secondly, he's found something that he's good at and he enjoys doing it. It's nothing like football, but at least with his golden hands, he can bribe Hiruma… somewhat, at least. That, and their past together is different to canon… but more on that later.


	3. Chapter 3

Published: 11 Dec 13

Edited: 12 Dec 13

* * *

In all honesty, Hiruma was terrifying, inhumanly so.

Sena could say in full seriousness that he was the stuff that nightmares could only dare to try and emulate. His angular eyes with slitted pupils, his bleached hair, his pierced and pointy ears… He was a devil in the guise of a human, and no one would dare cross his path intentionally or otherwise. His cackle, which could bring on the icy cold of winter; and his little book that was as black as the depths of hell, with its content that was rumoured to not only be filled with every secret that you had kept hidden in your heart, but also with the answer to the universe, ensured that fact.

… So it was surprise just how well Sena had coped with living with Hiruma as roommates for the three years he had studied in Saikyoudai despite having been utterly terrified of him.

Sena could remember ducking behind walls and cowering under his blankets every time he appeared, the very sound of his footsteps causing shivers to run down his spine… but he could also remember finally getting used to Hiruma's antics, and had soon learned to hold back his reflexive actions, earning himself the tentative curiosity of the blond. (He still didn't know whether that was a good thing, admittedly.)

However, his curiosity had led up to him finding out his skill of giving out orgasmic messages. Things led on from there, and Hiruma ended up as his demonic patron, giving him more than enough money to start up shop in the busy centre of Tokyo.

So yes, Hiruma was petrifying, and he was the devil incarnated, but Sena couldn't help but feel indebted to him for being so— _kind._

A soft smile was on Sena's face as he leaned against the back of the bench he was sitting on.

"This reminds me a lot of college," Sena commented over the hiss of the showerhead, knowing that Hiruma's sharp ears could hear him. "Watching you play football, having to wait for you to finish bathing, then giving you your customary massage…" He trailed off, his smile turning wry at the last thing. Hiruma was shameless in milking things for all they were worth, knowing that Sena would never refuse him after helping him so much.

As if sensing Sena's dry amusement, Hiruma's raucous laugh was clearly audible over the sound of the pounding water, and Sena relaxed even more, a content expression settling over his features.

"It's surprising just how much time has past, yet nothing's changed." The brunet remarked, when Hiruma didn't seem to want to interject with his own thoughts. "We're older now, yeah, but you're still playing football, and I'm still your gopher," Sena murmured, his words too fond for them to be taken seriously.

"Kekeke… You're fucking right, for once. I'm surprised, pipsqueak!" Hiruma yowled in reply, though Sena knew not to take his curt words too personally. Hiruma was nothing if not antagonistic at the best of times. Sena was about to respond when he continued. "... Though you're still too fucking defenceless!"

Hiruma's voice echoed against the ceramic tiles that covered the surfaces of the changing rooms, and Sena jolted despite himself at the demonic quality to his words. His eyes were wide in reflexive fear as the blond burst out of his shower cubicle, cowering as the blond marched up towards him, stopping only when he was in front of Sena…

And it was only then that Sena realised just how small he was compared to the blond. He was practically eye-level to his crotch—but thankfully, he had a towel wrapped around his waist. Though Sena could see that it was held up precariously with a lazy knot, and it was slipping down to reveal the sharp jut of his hip…

Sena turned a bright red, quickly ducking his head to stop himself from staring at Hiruma's body despite having seen it numerous times before. (He couldn't help but note that Hiruma's sharp facial features were echoed in his body, and he tried to stifle his wondering whether Hiruma had any part of his body that was _soft_.)

"W-what do y-you mean?!" He squeaked out, trying not to feel too indignant when Hiruma's smug face appeared in his vision, making him glance up despite himself.

Hiruma straightened up now that Sena wasn't looking at the floor. "I meant exactly what I said, shrimp!" Hiruma cackled out, before suddenly kicking at the bench, tipping it backwards. Sena flailed, shrieking in fright as he was sent sprawling over the tiles in a tangle of limbs and squeaking in surprise.

And it was only then that the door opened with a loud bang, revealing the imposing figure of—

"K-Kakei-s-sama?!" Sena squeaked out.

Kakei's expression was twisted into one of confusion at the sight of Sena, who was in an awkward position on the floor, and more than a little suspicion as he looked at Hiruma, who had somehow gotten dressed in the brief moment of distraction when Kakei had entered the room.

"… What are you doing here, Sena?" Kakei asked, moving to hook his hands under Sena's arms, lifting him up from his contortionist's pose with barely any effort—or so it seemed to Sena. "I thought that you were busy." He remarked lightly, lifting Sena up even higher, not letting his feet touch the ground beneath him.

"I- I was, until Hiruma-san came over!" Sena protested, wincing at the obvious tone of skepticism in his words. He then wriggled slightly in his grip, trying to get out of the embarrassing situation of being held above the ground by Kakei's hands. He didn't appreciate being manhandled like this!

Kakei frowned, before glancing over at Hiruma again with a cold and icy stare. Sena shivered at the sight of his obvious irritation, not wanting to experience having those cerulean eyes pinned on his person while Kakei was mad. "… Since Hiruma doesn't needing you now, you're coming with me," he announced bluntly, ignoring Hiruma's cackle as he adjusted his grip on the brunet, turning the hold into a—… cradle?

Sena's cheeks burned a bright red as he was scooped against Kakei's chest, trying to voice his protests at being carried in such a girly way, only his words didn't seem to register in Kakei's mind. He didn't need to have his small stature being thrown into his face, especially by a giant like Kakei!

"L-let go of me!" Sena all but shrieked, flustered by the way Kakei's hands were curled around his body, one arm following the curve of his back and hooking around his legs, and the other one _cupping his butt._

He was sure that Kakei didn't know what he was holding, and he wriggled again, trying to wordlessly convey his embarrassment and shame and the fact that he was touching somewhere very, _very_ inappropriate—and _oh god was he squeezing his hand?_

"THAT'S MY BUTT YOU'RE SQUEEZING!" Sena wailed, just as Kakei brought him out of the changing rooms and into a hallway. A hallway filled with a large gaggle of American football players, who suddenly had murderous glints in their eyes.

Sena always had the worst sense of timing.

* * *

**A/N**: I revised the earlier two chapters, since I've realised just how lazy I'd been with writing them. Sorry about that! There's more content, and it should be a lot more comprehensive… Sena's also a lot more like canon!Sena. I like HimuSena too much, so I'm going to be putting quite a few hints of it… though it's actually Kakei's turn to shine today. Bluh.

This was a little quickie, because I burned myself out at school today. Yeah.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** One thing. American footballers are idiots.

Published: 22 Dec 13

Edited:

* * *

Following Sena's panicked wail, a full-scale brawl had taken place in the cramped and narrow hallway… but Kakei seemed to be winning it against all odds, managing to keep a tight hold of Sena, even when hands were grabbing for his shirt, clawing at his arms and legs, anything to stop Kakei from escaping his punishment and to rescue Sena from his tainted and obviously perverted grip.

However the raven-haired man was unrelenting as he forced his way through, determined to keep his hold on the small brunet, not even a millimetre of space between Sena's side and his chest from how tightly he was gripping onto him.

"Don't worry Sena, I'm getting you out of here," Kakei promised, grunting softly in pain as Yamato did _something_ to his back, a terrifyingly calm smile on his handsome face.

Sena was too terrified to respond. Though he had initially fought Kakei's hold on his body, he was now gripping onto him for dear life.

He didn't want to die!

Only the heavens knew what was going to happen if he got mixed up in this, though he had a few good ideas of what his body was going to look like at the end: trampled flat, with footprint-shaped bruises and wounds all over his body. He was going to be flattened by their superior bulk and power!

Sena whimpered in fear, hiding his face into Kakei's increasingly diminished shirt.

And that sight only threw the men into a greater frenzy.

Suddenly, Sena was tossed out of Kakei's hold, screeching in terrified surprise as he tumbled onto the floor, rolling several times as he got quite a few accidental kicks to the side. However, he soon came to a stop, somehow managing to avoid getting trampled on.

Quickly scrambling to his feet, Sena let instinct take over, and he _got the fuck out of there_, sprinting his way out of the confusing and chaotic mass, eyes teary from pain.

Rushing out of the hallway, where Kakei was now being thoroughly punished for copping a feel of Sena's body (Sena could feel a thrill of vindication running through him at the thought—serve that pervert right!), Sena managed to get outside of the stadium before his legs and ribs forced him to stop, gasping desperately for air.

Collapsing onto his knees, he buried his face into his hands, trying to compose himself.

He… he hadn't ran like that for _years_, since high school if he recalled correctly!

Too distracted by the way his heartbeat throbbed in his ears, heat flashing through his body, he didn't notice the person standing in front of him until they crouched down to force his chin up.

Sena's eyes widened when Shin's face came into view, the linebacker's fingers holding his chin gently.

"… You're sweating." Shin noted absently, his other hand moving to wipe his damp locks from his face. "You were running. Away from something. Why?" He questioned, frowning slightly.

Sena shook his head mutely, still panting heavily as he tried to regain strength. He couldn't explain anything to Shin—not how a brawl had occurred because Kakei had touched his… his butt, and not how he had ran away from it all; the proof of which were the bruises in his side.

Shin paused, mulling something over.

"… Since you seem to be exhausted, I will carry you to a place of your choosing," Shin stated, not even giving Sena the chance to deny his offer. "For now, however, I will take you to a café. Sakuraba had informed me that that is a place people frequent when they require a calming atmosphere."

Sena couldn't protest as Shin scooped him up in a manner that was not unlike Kakei's… though he was just as quickly tossed over Shin's shoulder. His breath was knocked out of him when Shin's broad shoulder connected with his stomach, and he let out a breathy groan of pain, his forehead pressed against Shin's extremely muscular back.

What was with American footballers and their apparent need to humiliate, touch, hurt, or carry him!?

Sena tried to struggle, but his pitifully weak arms didn't even budge Shin's honed and toned muscles. Not for the first time, Sena swore vehemently under his breath, resolving to improve his physique. (Spoiler alert, nothing would work, not matter what he did; slurp down protein shakes like a baby would drink milk, benchpress like nobody's business, jog day in and day out… Hiruma would end up looking at him, and laughing at his face, _ha, ha,_ bloody _ha_.)

Despite how fast they were moving, Sena unwillingly noting how long Shin's strides were compared to his, their journey seemed to last a millennia with the millions of pairs of eyes on them.

Sena wanted to die of embarrassment.

"Shin-san!" He whined, dropping the formal honorific as he tried to repress his dark blush. "Let me down! I can walk perfectly fine!"

His legs were still tired, yes, but he was a man dammit, and he didn't appreciate it being carried like this! Besides, with every step Shin took, the shift in centre of gravity all but _thrust_ his extremely bony shoulder into his stomach—and Sena was sure he was going to get a shoulder-sized bruise on his skin by the end of the hour.

However, Shin didn't reply, making Sena sag limply against his shoulder, giving up on all hope that his masculine pride could be salvaged. Sena fixed despairing eyes on the rapidly disappearing stadium, feeling a strange sense of—_something_ when they rounded a corner.

Why did he feel a sudden chill down his spine? And why was he suddenly so anxious of jumping out of Shin's grip, and running the hell out of the country?

Sena shivered, ignorant of the frown that briefly flashed by Shin's face.

* * *

_Blink, blink._

Was that…?

Yes it was. But _who _was that beside him?

_Blink, blink._

Oh. _Oh_.

This bore a lot of thought.

Quite a lot, since it was _him_, and _he_ was sought out by _them_…

Hm… Very curious… very curious indeed.

_A widening grin. _

"Oh yes, you've been quite a naughty boy, Sena-sensei…"

* * *

Sat down on a chair, across the table from a startled looking Sena, Shin stared at him with a phlegmatic expression.

Shin was not an oblivious man. He may, admittedly, have a one-track mind when it came to training, but he was not oblivious to the world around him, as much as Sakuraba may have thought.

He knew that Sena was a much-coveted man, wanted by many people; if not for his hands, then for his ability to put people at ease with merely a glance and a smile. But the latter was not as _renowned_ as the former, and that was something that Shin… was thankful for. He was sure that, otherwise, it would be much more hard to get one-on-one time with the brunet, and Shin would regret the loss of his presence as he had gotten used to making time for the brunet in between his training sessions.

Glancing up when a waitress came over, Shin merely ordered a glass of water for himself, ordering a sweetened iced milk tea for Sena, knowing that he preferred that over any other drink on the menu here. Unless Sena had an unspoken penchant for the _Pink Paradise _specialty drink, comprised of strawberry, peaches, a dash of brandy, and freshly squeezed oranges, that is.

Shin blinked slowly at Sena when he thanked him with a stuttered voice, nodding his head once to show that he was acknowledging his thankfulness. However, in Shin's opinion, there was no need to be thanked, in all honesty: it was natural for Shin to endeavour to find out more about the people he found interesting, or people whom were his rivals.

He knew that Sena had a sweet tooth, and had a sprinter's body—those legs, while not properly trained, were shaped perfectly for sprinting, and he knew just how fast Sena could get at times. He also knew that the other preferred the colour orange, though not the garishly neon shades, but rather, the toned-down shades of said colour.

And he also knew that Sena often jogged during the night, and Shin often let him join him on his daily runs, if only to make sure that Sena didn't get himself mugged, or anything that was just as dangerous. It was because of this last fact that Shin knew where Sena lived, as he was often invited to sleep over because it was past midnight, and Shin couldn't possibly go home at this time. Shin appreciated the gesture, though he had never informed Sena of where he lived – just a building away from Sena's apartment block.

"Shin-san…" Sena mumbled a moment later, once their drinks arrived, and time had passed.

Shin noted that all traces of his exhaustion were gone, making him nod in satisfaction—and in response to his call.

"What is it?" He asked bluntly, sipping at his glass of water. It was mineral, he realised belatedly, frowning slightly as he tried to calculate whether that would affect his food regimen for the day. He would have to change his dinner to compensate for the intake of minerals… However, he quickly focused on Sena again when he continued to speak, letting his frown dissipate from his features.

"You're not going to ask?" Sena questioned, his body tense with nervousness under Shin's scrutiny.

"Ask about what?" Shin was slightly confused at Sena's line of thought, wondering what he was referring to. There was nothing that Shin needed to be clarified, and there wasn't anything that Shin was particularly curious about knowing… other than why Sena wasn't an athlete, but he'd reasoned that Sena had his own secrets.

"You know… about why I was so exhausted back there…" Sena shifted back, distancing his body away from Shin's. The linebacker wondered whether it had a psychological reason to it, that he didn't want Shin to actually question him on it.

But he ignored it quickly. Sakuraba had mentioned that one of Shin's more annoyingly Shin-like quality was his lack of understanding of social situations, and that while it could be a detriment to his relationships outside of the field, it was something that he couldn't imagine Shin not having. So, he decided that his line of thought wasn't something worth following, as it was likely that he was going to come up with a wrong answer to the problem Sena was posing with his body language.

"You were running, or rather, sprinting from something." Shin stated, ignoring the surprise that now lined Sena's body language. "There is no need to question you about that… Though I wonder how you got your bruises."

Sena's eyes widened. "H-how?!" He squeaked out.

As cute as that was – he sounded like a little hamster, all soft and high-pitched and _small_ – Shin didn't understand how Sena didn't seem to realise how obvious it was. He flinched every so often when something nudged at his ribs, implying that he had gotten hurt doing something; and when he had carried Sena to the café, he'd spotted the yellowing bruises at his sides when Sena's shirt rode up slightly. And Shin didn't like it when the brunet got hurt – not only was it detrimental to his training schedule, but Sena wasn't meant to get hurt, especially when he hadn't been placed in a situation where getting hurt was likely.

"I saw them." He replied simply, frowning as he leaned forward. He could see the increase in proximity made Sena even more nervous, and he wondered vaguely why that was. "Did you get into a fight?" Shin asked, silently placing his fists on the table; a quiet statement that he would get back at those who had hurt Sena.

"N-no! I didn't—I just placed myself into a… a _chaotic_ situation by accident!" Sena denied, shaking his hands in front of him as he tried to placate Shin's sudden need for protecting Sena. "It was my own fault- and I didn't mean to get involved in such things!"

Shin's frown deepened, and Sena's eyes widened, the volume at which he denied only getting louder in correspondence with the outlandish nature of his excuses.

"I mean—I was the one who instigated it all, because I opened my big mouth, and I made them all mad, and I-I wasn't supposed to do such things, and Kakei-sama must be so mad at me because of everything that happened because of me!" He half-wailed, looking distraught as he thought about the state at which _Kakei-sama _had been left in.

Though inwardly amused by the sudden rush of excuses, Shin's respect for Sena grew ever so slightly after having witnessed Sena's ability to say that all with one single breath, and at such a volume. He really did have to train more in order to become the best—and Sena obviously had him beat in this particular area of expertise.

"What do you mean?" Shin asked, wondering what incident Sena was referring to as he ignored the slight flare of annoyance at the mention of the other linebacker. In his opinion, Kakei monopolised the masseur a little too much, preventing Shin from enjoying the brunet's presence more often than he wanted.

Shin, while stoic at the best of times, was not unaware of his emotions and what they meant. He was not the emotionally stunted training-machine that people liked to say that he was, no matter how much he seemed it.

"Kakei… how is he involved?" He demanded, eyes narrowed.

"W-w-well… he's just—you know, uh," Sena stammered, stalling for time as he grew increasingly nervous under Shin's almost-glare. "Um… he was trying to- uh, help me, you know, try and… try and get me—!"

He was cut off when someone bumped into the back of his chair, jolting him forward and pressing the table's edge against his multiple bruises, making him hiss with surprise and not a little pain.

"Oh- whoops! I'm so sorry! Are you alright? I didn't mean to bump into you like that—Sena-sensei."

A light and fluty voice entered their ears, and the two men looked up at the stranger who had so rudely interrupted Sena. Well, not so stranger, actually.

Sena's eyes widened, and he choked on the air he was breathing, coughing and spluttering as he looked up at Kisaragi Hiromi beaming at him. He was too stunned to protest as Kisaragi grabbed a chair from a different table, dragging it over and pulling it up next to Sena, sitting down on it without even a by-your-leave.

Shin narrowed his eyes on the effeminate man, who seemed undisturbed by the almost murderous glare.

"Sena-sensei, it really has been a while! I'm rather jealous that you have enough time to be hanging around _this man_, yet can't make enough time to meet up with me!" Kisaragi chirped in an entirely unmalicious way, placing a hand on top of the brunet's, patting it once, twice, and then leaving it resting over his, his larger hand covering Sena's.

Shin didn't miss the possessive tone to his touch. Sena did, however.

"Ah… yeah," Sena agreed, having gotten too used to the blond's affectionate touches to react outwardly anymore, giving Shin a helpless smile, silently asking him to forgive Kisaragi for inviting himself into their—well, it wasn't a date, but _tea time_ together. He really didn't want Shin to be mad at him; it made him feel guilty and all too frantic that he ruined the fragile relationship he had with the quiet man.

Shin merely crossed his arms in response, making Sena's smile wider, and a touch more happy, before the brunet turned to chat with the blond, even as slender fingers slid up and down the soft skin on the back of Sena's hand. Shin wasn't being petulant about Sena's attention being diverted towards Kisaragi, or how touchy-feely Kisaragi was towards Sena, even if he really disliked it. He wasn't a child after all...

Though his eyes narrowed as Kisaragi's hand flipped Sena's over, trailing up the pale shadows of his veins.

Nope, he wasn't petulant in the slightest.

Not at all.

Really.

* * *

**A/N:** And secondly, I need to focus down the group of men to around three to four. Right now, I'm seriously gunning for Kakei as one of the group because he's a babe… And for some reason, Kisaragi too… Uh. Yeah.

Hiruma, in this story, is more of an amorous cousin, who flirts a lot but isn't going to cross the line, so he's not going to be considered one of the main pairings. And Agon… well, he's a line I'm not willing to cross, either. (As much as I ship them together, I can't find a feasible way of getting them together in this story.)


End file.
